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This Mom's Facebook Rant On Why Modern Parenting Is 'Terrible' Went Viral

One mother found herself ready to spend $100 on vitamins after getting sucked down a parenting vitamin hole, fueled by marketing that makes you feel like if you don't buy a $40 oregano oil vile, you are, officially, a child-killer.

The thing is, with the advent of the internet, suddenly millions of voices and opinions about parenting have flooded the culture. Being a parent is now like getting a PhD in child psychology in nine months.

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There are so many different strategies and products you're pressured into buying. If you don't, the mob explains, YOUR CHILD WILL BE BORN WITH A TAIL — AND NOT A FURRY CUTE ONE LIKE AN ANIME CHARACTER BUT LIKE A GRAY PIG'S TAIL THAT WAGS WHEN YOU'RE HAPPY AND PRODUCES A PUNGENT ODOR WHEN AROUSED.

Bunmi Laditan, author of "Toddlers Are Assholes: It's Not Your Fault," wrote a Facebook post about the vitamin-buying hole she fell into, which has now 71k shares and 115k likes.

Here is the original post.

Some highlights:

I'd give my left kneecap to have parented in the 70s or 80s when all you had to do to be considered a good mom is to remember to wind down the windows when you smoke in the car. Do you know what I've been doing this morning? VITAMIN SHOPPING. For 45 minutes I've been comparing children's vitamins, reading online reviews, and, inflammatory blog posts backed by no science that I both fear and respect.
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And more:

I own two good bras but I'm ready to spend upwards of $100 on children's vitamins, probiotics (these look like finely pressed cocaine and tastes like nothing but if you don't buy it your child dies), and supplements. Someone told me my kids need fish oils that cost $60. So now, I'm about to spend an electricity bill on vitamins because in 2016, you don't really love your kids if you're not a paranoid mess about their physical well being and willing to spend a small fortune on dye-free toothpaste made in the woods that tastes like eldeberry and privilege.

I'd like to think, if I ever spawn any new humans of my own, that I'd be different from the helicopter, paranoid parents I see and read about, but I know I won't be. I'm already a hypochondriac about myself; I can only imagine how nuts I'm going to get about a helpless little creature I made that has half of my DNA in it and could become president or an American Ninja Warrior (I can dream).